


Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: Morning After

by MizJoely



Series: Twenty Sherlolly Prompts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Panicky morning after, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>clmpr on tumlbr said: Congrats on the followers Captain, could you do a funny panicky morning after pregnancy fic? ( when you have the time) So yes, either unprotected or "wardrobe" failure during a one night stand. I know it sounds like a bad romcom but socially inept geniuses dealing with the fall out and the reactions from their little circle sounds like fun in my evil little head, plus I have an insane love for babylock (but i am trying to find treatment for my condition)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: Morning After

_No condom._

That was Molly Hooper’s first, panicky thought the morning after she and Sherlock had sex the first time. They hadn’t used a condom. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem; it had been six months since she had broken up with Tom, and the two of them hadn’t had sex for a good two months before that, and had used condoms every single time. And Sherlock hadn’t shared needles when he was using drugs for the Magnussen case, and hadn’t slept with Janine in spite of what she told the tabloids, and hadn’t had sex before that since long before his two years as a dead man.

They were both clean, no worries about STIs, they’d reassured one another when they’d found themselves in Sherlock’s flat after she’d successfully helped him and John Watson take down the Moriarty impersonator who’d attempted to hold Britain hostage to the sum of £10 billion. Of course, the two of them were in the midst of removing one another’s clothing at the time so it was possible that they hadn’t been thinking clearly…

No, Molly thought with a slightly hysterical laugh as she burrowed her head beneath the pillows and attempted to hide from the truth she’d jolted herself awake with. They certainly hadn’t been thinking clearly. Either of them.

_“Molly, you were absolutely amazing,” Sherlock breathed as he stared at her soaking wet form. She beamed at him proudly; a compliment from Sherlock was as rare as a blue diamond these days, when he’d been so consumed with rooting out the truth about the supposed return of his most implacable foe._

_“You weren’t half bad yourself,” she replied with a cheeky wink as she took in his equally wet form. John, Mary and Greg had left for their respective homes, Mary fussing over whether Mycroft’s PA had done an adequate job watching over baby Lindsey and John attempting to reassure her that Andrea – although he kept calling her ‘Anthea’ – was more than competent to keep their two-month-old daughter not only safe but happy and comfortable as well. Greg had hurried off to meet up with his newly minted fiancée, Sally Donovan, and Sherlock and Molly had found themselves alone._

_The storm raging outside hadn’t abated one single bit, and Molly was reluctant to brave it once again. Nor did Sherlock seem particularly minded to send her on his way once Mrs. Hudson had brought up tea for the two of them to share and clucked over their drenched selves. Sherlock had assured his landlady that he would find something dry for Molly to wear and the older woman had gone back down to her flat, muttering something about herbal soothers that Molly didn’t quite catch._

_Then Sherlock had given her that lovely compliment and she’d given him her semi-joking response and without further warning in either looks or words, Sherlock had pressed her up against the closed door to the flat and commenced snogging her breathless._

Molly groaned at the memory. No, not at the memory; it was one she would always cherish. No, she groaned at the stupidity she and Sherlock had both demonstrated when neither one of them had so much as thought of other consequences of unprotected sex other than STIs. No, they’d both reassured each other that they were clean, stripped off their sopping wet clothes and left them lying in sodden heaps by the door, then fallen naked together on Sherlock’s sofa, where she’d ridden him like a rodeo star, wrenching groans and curses from his lips as he nipped and sucked at her breasts when she’d leaned down give herself a better angle. His fingers had slipped between their bodies, touching her exactly where she needed him and she’d come like a freight train, and just as noisily. He’d joined her not long after, his hands moving to her hips in order to better pound her up and down on his heated shaft, leaving – Molly peeked from behind the pillows – yes, finger-tip bruises now decorated her hips, little purple marks to show that Sherlock had, indeed, Been Here.

_As soon as their spent forms had recovered enough to move again, Molly had gulped down her now-cold cup of tea and Sherlock had slid from beneath her, rising to his feet with that innate grace he possessed. As soon as she finished he’d taken her hand and led her to his bedroom, pulling her down onto the mattress and wrapping his long, lean form around hers, his hands gently cupping her breasts and his lips on her neck. She’d breathlessly asked if he was sure he was ready for another go; he’d guided her hand down to stroke his sticky, warm length and had been stunned to feel it hardening beneath her touch. God, it hadn’t even been ten minutes! Who did he think he was, Superman?_

_When she’d groaned that comment out loud he’d chuckled against her neck and commenced teasing her nipples in earnest as he said, “Sorry, no, just a man with a very rapid recovery period. Made for some interesting nights at Uni. Shall we see if we can break a few of my records, or are you not up to that particular challenge, Miss Hooper?”_

_The sound of her name, so formal on his lips, had sent a flush of heat straight to her groin, helped along by the feel of his fingers stroking her breasts and then his mouth returning to sucking on her neck. One hand snaked down between her legs, which she’d willingly – oh so willingly – parted for him. He’d taken her like that, from behind, the two of them lying on their sides, his fingers working her expertly until she was a panting, writhing mess. She came just as hard and just as loudly as she had the first time, and although he took a bit longer to join her, the sound and feel of his orgasm was nearly as satisfying to her as her own._

Three more times, Molly remembered with a wondering grin that quickly turned to a grimace. Three more times, five times in all, with no condom. Not once.

And her no longer on the pill after breaking up with Tom and not wanting to deal with anything that reminded her of him in the least littlest bit.

She jumped to her feet, panic finally fully blossoming as she belatedly realized she was alone. The sound of water running in the bathroom told her where Sherlock was; without stopping to think, feeling only the blind urge to run, she gathered up her still-damp clothes from in front of the door, threw them on, shoved her sockless feet into her shoes, snatched up her handbag and mobile and bolted, clattering down the stairs and out the door before her better instincts could catch up to her.

A half hour later found her pacing around her tiny flat, her fat Persian cat Toby watching her disinterestedly from his perch on the back of the sofa while she wondered aloud what the hell she should do. She was mumbling about getting to a chemist’s and getting her hands on a morning after pill when her door was unceremoniously shoved open, revealing a wild-eyed Sherlock standing there.

Wearing only a dressing gown over a pair of silky black boxers. Barefoot, hair soaking wet, with his mobile clutched in his free hand. He skidded to a halt directly in front of her shocked form, taking in the sight of her, the tension in his body visibly draining as he met her eyes. “You’re all right,” he said, sounding faintly accusatory.

“Of course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be?” Molly asked, genuinely confused by his overreaction. Yes, she’d bolted from his flat like Toby frightened by the vacuum, but surely the self-proclaimed deductive genius must have been able to read why she’d done so by the clues she’d left behind!

Apparently not, as she quickly discovered. Sherlock lifted the mobile to his lips and began speaking, a rapid stream of words Molly nevertheless had no difficulty understanding. “She’s here, at her flat, she’s fine, she apparently left on her own recog…no Mycroft, I didn’t waste any time attempting to look for clues to her disappearance, that’s why I called you and Lestrade, to do it for me while I…yes, I suppose I might have overreacted, but honestly, Mycroft, can you blame me? After the past three months…yes, yes, next time I’ll be sure to confirm that a kidnapping’s taken place before I call for reinforcements, fine, will that make you happy?”

Without another word he clicked off the phone and chucked it onto Molly’s low coffee table, then strode across the room and pulled her into his arms for a long, rather desperate kiss. She returned it enthusiastically, but when his hands began to roam under her jumper she pulled back, exclaiming, “Sherlock! Are you mad?”

He looked extremely hurt by her reaction, but quickly hid it behind a mask of cold indifference. “Ah, I see. Last night was meant as a one-off, my apologies for misreading the situation between us. I’ll be going now, no need to see me out.”

As he turned and started to stalk off, Molly came out of her shock and grabbed his arm in both her hands, tugging him back around to face her. “No! That’s not what I…no, it wasn’t a one-off, not for me, sorry! I just…”

“Then why did you leave without saying good-bye?” he demanded, looking more lost and bewildered than Molly had ever seen him. “Why did you stop me just now?”

She stared up at him; did he honestly not get it? “Sherlock, we had sex last night. Several times.”

He beamed at her. “Yes, five times to be exact, and it was quite exhilarating.” His smile faded a bit. “You seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, but if I left you unsatisfied, all you had to do was say so; I promise I can do better in future if you’ll just give me a chance…”

Molly gave a disbelieving laugh, then covered her mouth and shook her head to reassure him that she wasn’t actually laughing at him. She laid her free hand on his chest, giving herself a second to recover before saying, “Oh, no, trust me, I was very satisfied last night. Every single time. No worries there, Sherlock, I promise. No, it’s just that…we had _unprotected_ sex. Five times. And I’m not on the pill any longer, I haven’t been since…well. Since Tom and I broke things off.”

Sherlock nodded his understanding. “I see. So you’re concerned about pregnancy, is that it?”

“Well, yes,” Molly replied, narrowing her eyes at him. He didn’t sound nearly as concerned about the possibility as she was; why wasn’t the prospect of having gotten her up the duff bothering him?

When she asked that very question, he shrugged and pulled her into his arms, kissing her again before answering. “Not worried about it. You want to have children, I already knew that, and we aren’t either of us getting any younger. So if you are pregnant – you didn’t stop at the chemist’s for some levonorgestrel, did you? No, you didn’t have time, you came straight here, excellent!” He beamed at her again while she blinked in confusion. “So if you are pregnant, then that’s fine, we’ll have gotten a good start on the three children you want to have. It is still three, isn’t it?” he interrupted himself to ask as he peered intently at her slack-jawed face. 

Molly nodded, unable to speak just at the moment, overwhelmed by everything Sherlock had said and done since arriving at her flat this morning. When she finally did manage to string together a coherent sentence, she asked, “And you’re all right with that, us having children? Or a child at least? Even though we’ve just got together and haven’t even sorted out where this relationship is going, or if it even is a relationship or, or…anything?”

Sherlock scowled at her in that way he had when he was hearing someone say something absolutely idiotic. “Of course it’s a relationship, Molly; do keep up! You’ve been in love with me for nearly seven years now, even when you were with Meat Dagger, although I actually made myself believe you had gotten over me and were happy with him. Then I saw you stab him with the fork at John and Mary’s wedding and I knew I was wrong. But then, I always miss something. But the Magnussen case needed sorting and the drug use got a bit out of hand and you were extremely angry with me about that and about Janine and…well. It was never the right time, was it? Only it is now and I have no intentions of ever letting anything come between us again.”

He fell silent and Molly took a deep breath before saying, “Right. So we’re in a relationship and it’s long term and you’re fine with me being pregnant, which we don’t know for sure that I am, but if I am, then you’re actually fine with it. And you’re willing to be a dad and a boyfriend…”

“Husband,” he interrupted her firmly. “I’ll have Mycroft get the paperwork rushed though so we can be married straight away. Invite who you like, we’ll have it at my parent’s home, they’ll love you, they already half-do from what I’ve told them about you…”

It was Molly’s turn to interrupt Sherlock. “You’ve talked to your parents about me? When? Why?”

He waved her questions away with an impatient scowl. “Does it really matter? When you meet them I’m sure Mummy will be happy to bore you with all the tedious details. Later,” he added, the scowl softening as he ran his fingers along her jaw and cupped her face in his hands. “After we’ve spent some more quality time together.” He gave her a smoldering look that made Molly forget about the ache between her legs and all the panic and doubt she’d been feeling since awakening. With a seductive smile, she grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward her bedroom.

Neither of them remembered that Sherlock had left the door to her flat open until a few hours later, when her elderly neighbor yoo-hoo’d through the door that she’d found Toby wandering the halls and was putting him back inside. The sound of the door closing was the only other noise from outside Molly’s bedroom that caught their attention for the rest of the day.

Two days later they were married; nine months after that, Meredith Hooper-Holmes was born, followed a year later by her brother Robert. A year after his birth twins Scarlett and Edmund were welcomed into the world.

And Molly could honestly say she’d never ever been happier in her life.

A sentiment with which Sherlock wholeheartedly concurred.


End file.
